We are spending Easter weekend in South Carolina, near the "lowcountry" area, of which Charleston is the capital. Relatives live just north of Charleston, and for a period of six years, my husband and I forged a new life apart from everything familiar to us.
It was in South Carolina where we learned how to become adults, even though we were in our late 20s at the time we moved from Pennsylvania. It was an exciting, yet frightening time for us, as we learned another culture ("the Southern way"), secured jobs and began anew. My husband's aunts, uncles and a set of grandparents also lived there, and they helped ease us during the transition of north versus south.
It was in South Carolina where I became pregnant for the first time, and then the second time, birthing a boy and girl whose heritage will always be southern.
There is something that calls to my spirit about Charleston, the birthplace of the Civil War (Sumter). Perhaps it is the defiant "you aren't telling me how to live" attitude which was pervasive 150 years ago. Or perhaps it is the sweet southern drawl genteel natives use in everyday expressions, such as "That's so good, it'll make your tongue slap your teeth right outside your mouth!" and "Pass those cathead biscuits" that bring an instant chuckle. Or perhaps it is the survivor spirit which remains rooted in the soil when battered about by hurricane winds and other adversaries howl defeat. I always felt welcome, even though I am clearly a Yankee through and through.
While James Taylor was specifically thinking of North Carolina when he wrote this song, I can't help but wistfully think of the other Carolina. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXmgkvIgc0w
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